


Moonglow

by fake_years



Category: The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, M/M, To take a break from war, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:59:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fake_years/pseuds/fake_years
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve in Eugene and Snafu's New York apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonglow

**Author's Note:**

> It must have been moonglow  
> Way up in the blue  
> It must have been moonglow  
> That led me straight to you

“Merriell, get the butter.”

Snafu pulled his head back through the window, out of the cool night air and into the oppressive heat of the kitchen. His right arm remained outstretched, his dangling cigarette dusting ash into the flower box. Past the morass of buildings and fire escapes, Snafu could make out a yellowish half-moon shining through the cracks.

“Now what’d I do to get you callin’ me Merriell for?” he replied to Eugene’s back. His eyes lazily followed the other man as he flitted between the cutting board and the stove. He had little choice but to acknowledge him by sheer virtue of the city apartment's less than generous size.

Eugene refrained from looking in Snafu's direction as he tossed another wad of paper towels into the trash. When he turned around, there were splotches of grease on his t-shirt and wry impatience in his face. “Look - you said you were gonna help, but all you’ve done this whole time is smoke out the goddamn window.”

“Looked like you had a handle on it, s’all,” Snafu sniffed. He stubbed out the three quarters-finished cigarette into the potted dirt. The pan on the stove-top began to hiss irritably.

Eugene grabbed for the spoon speckled with bits of already-drying sauce to move its contents before readjusting the heat. He sighed, saying, “Just pass me the butter, alright? It’s back there on the second shelf, unless you threw it away.”

Snafu left his station at the window and moved behind Eugene in order to reach the fridge. The apartment was cramped, no question, and the noise pollution was even worse. Snafu spent half his time thinking up ways they could get out and into a place with a view of the park one day. His front brushed along Eugene’s back as he reached to place the cool, wax paper-covered block on the counter.

The contact was brief, but it was the kind of thing Snafu felt with every inch of his body. For years they’d been dancing around one another. There'd always been a reason not to, from the very start as two southerners up North in the Craigslist housing classifieds. They'd been through Eugene’s heart scare, through new jobs and unemployment, through significant others and less significant hook ups (mostly ill-advised in Eugene’s case).

Sometimes he ventured to hope. Eugene had started to ask more questions when Snafu went out or came back in, even though when he tried to hide it with nonchalance. The way his stare lingered was suddenly less coy and more forward. Their goodnights were longer. Likewise, the amount of time Eugene would spend sitting and shooting the shit with him at breakfast (coffee) had increased. At that hour the sunlight was only a pale blue suggestion on the horizon, an hour before Eugene had to leave for class.

Lost in thought and the auburn hairs at the nape of Eugene’s neck, Snafu managed to nearly knock over the cutting board and send it rattling over the edge.

Eugene turned his head to shoot another look at him. Snafu met him with eyes sparkling, biting his lip and holding up the stick. The corners of his mouth were already twitching upwards before he could get the words out.

“Butt’a fingers.”

Eugene’s shoulders began to shake with repressed laughter. “That’s awful,” he wheezed in spite of himself, “That’s really fuckin’ awful.”

Snafu grinned regardless. He leaned easily against the counter by Eugene’s elbow and peered at the well-chopped chunks of potato and scattered cookware. He thought about reaching out for Eugene’s arm to settle him, running his palm from the knob of his shoulder past his shirtsleeve.

Snafu folded his arms across his chest instead. He continued to steal glances in Eugene’s direction – only momentarily mourning the loss of his cigarette. He knew that as much fuss as Eugene made about help, he wouldn’t trust Snafu with much more than fetching butter.

“You ‘bout done?” he cleared his throat from disuse. Eugene looked up from the sink, shaking off the residual water droplets into the basin before wiping the front and backs of his hands on his jeans.

“Did I already take out the big platter?”

“Ov’a there on the table,” Snafu nodded at the red and gold ceramic plate whose bottom was still stuck with papery-white remnants of the price sticker.

Eugene surveyed the room with a worn out expression. “I guess that’s it, once the sauce finishes. Then I gotta clean up.”

“And you gonna do all that?”

“Well somebody's got to Snafu,” Eugene quipped as he turned back to the stove.

“Don’ worry about ‘em,” Snafu said. He tried for casual by studying the black under his fingernails. “I got it.”

“You?” Eugene laughed, “I haven’t seen you wash a dish in the three years I’ve known you.”

“Least I can do, you cookin’ that whole damn thing. I say we eat it all and let ‘im make his own dinner.”

After Eugene's brother had invited him over to show off his new place and new wife, Eugene had himmed and hawed about how he couldn’t show up empty handed until one day Snafu nearly hit him in the throat with his mother’s dollar store Betty Crocker recipe book.

Both of them knew Snafu wasn’t going home for Christmas. Even so, there hadn’t been an invitation extended, meaning Snafu would likely rifle through Eugene’s DVDs until he got bored and went wandering in search of the only bar open on Christmas Eve. There were certain benefits to living in a big, damned-dirty city after all. Snafu would get his boots uncomfortably wet in the melted snow and stare up at the Christmas trees high above, in the windows of warmly lit apartment.

At least he had Eugene for tonight. Snafu walked over and placed one hand on each side of Eugene's rib cage. For one brief moment, he allowed himself to revel in the feeling.

“What the – “ Eugene shouted. He attempted to simultaneously twist around and keep control of the stove top.

“Easy there Sledgehamma’,” Snafu slid his hands and reached around to switch off the burner. He ignored the shiver of want, the way Eugene froze. “You just gonna sit your ass down. Ain’t you ever heard of faintin’ from standin’ over a hot stove all day?” Neither moved. Finally, Snafu half-heartedly pushed Eugene away and in the direction of the living room.

“What’s it to you?” Eugene asked over his shoulder even as he made his way to their well-worn spot on the couch.

“Can’t have you burnin’ my apartment down.” Snafu scratched the pan across the stovetop to the back burner. With one backwards glance, he stuck his index finger in the sauce and sucked it into his mouth. The burn on his tongue sent him cursing under his breath. He wetted his finger in an attempt to soothe the sting before rounding the corner to the living room.

“Ain’t Christmas 'less we watch ‘Die Hard.’” Snafu informed him without precursor.

Under Eugene's skeptical gaze, Snafu rammed the load button twice in quick succession, waiting for the disk tray to lethargically slide out. Once he returned to the couch, Snafu was careful to maintain at least a foot between his and Eugene’s thighs even with the inward dipped of the cushions.

He’d seen the thing more times than he could count. The “Die Hard” VHS laying on the floor by his bedroom closet was as clear as any other image in his mind. Halfway into the film, Eugene told him to pause it while he disappeared into the bathroom. Left with the silence and his own thoughts, Snafu bounced his knee up and down with pent up nerves. He shifted and propped his legs up on the table. His foot nudged the Xbox controller on the coffee table and nearly unsettled the stack of Sports Illustrated’s Eugene’s aunt had subscribed them to.

He couldn't pinpoint why tonight was different. Maybe it was the holidays and the way they always made Snafu a little crazy. He felt a little more caged every time another holiday-themed coffee or toy or windshield wiper fluid commercial came on. Maybe Snafu wouldn't bother. Maybe he’d wait another for another month or another year to make a move. Maybe by that time he’d stop wanting Eugene altogether.

As if on cue, Snafu looked up to see Eugene walking back towards him. His eyes raked over the other man's body, even though he had him memorized. He could see Eugene on his eyelids – his long neck, his ears that stuck out just a little too far from his head, his chin - his mouth. Snafu felt just how far gone he was by the flipping sensation in his gut.

“Remind me that we need to get a new bathmat, cause that thing is disgusting,” Eugene commented as he retook his seat. “What? You can start it.”

Another ten minutes in, Snafu noticed Eugene shift towards him on the couch. Eugene’s eyes never left the screen, but five inches had undoubtedly disappeared between them. Snafu’s heart began to beat against his chest and his ears to the point of distraction.

Snafu grunted and shifted in his seat, all the while raising his arm to relax against the back of the sofa, behind Eugene’s head. Eugene didn’t move. If Snafu pulled back now, they would never have to talk about it. He counted the minutes in his head, every agonizing second, before lowering his arm inch by inch to rest along Eugene’s shoulders.

Snafu felt disconnected from his body. It was as if the weight of his arm had increased ten fold, a behemoth of an appendage, crushing Eugene. He began to sweat despite the cold. Eugene remained completely still with Snafu’s forearm curved around the bare skin of his neck, and yet his eyes slipped away from Bruce Willis for a moment.

Maybe they could brush it off as nothing. Eugene could still get out if he wanted, but Snafu's skin was already itching for more. Snafu adjusted his position to better allow his hand to slide over the ball of Eugene’s shoulder. In the movie, a machine gun manned from inside a helicopter fired off another round of bullets. Breath caught in his throat, Snafu’s slightly trembling fingertips and thumb drew light circles over the well-worn fabric of Eugene’s ROTC sweatshirt.

They were well over the line delineating casual touch and something more purposeful. Snafu halted his motions as Eugene traversed the short distance between them to press his body fully against Snafu’s side. Then his forehead came to rest against Snafu, who felt as if all the mixed up pieces of his life were finally slotting together. He felt the contact seep straight through him to warm his veins. Every point where they touched felt suddenly over-sensitized. In a moment of confidence, he pulled Eugene closer.

He looked down to find Eugene’s hand settled on his knee. Snafu thought he might be dreaming. When Eugene finally spoke, low and soft against his shirt. “D’you wanna come to Ed’s with me?” Eugene's eyes were trained on his own searing palm against Snafu’s thigh.

“Yea,” Snafu murmured thickly. He wet his lips, dumbstruck that Eugene was here next to him, under his arm, hand on his knee - the unbearably nerve-wracking way their bodies were fitted together - that they were having this conversation at all. “Yea, sure.”

“You sure? I know how you guys never got to be the best of friends or anything.” Eugene lifted his head to look up at Snafu. “Don't get me wrong - I’d like it if you did.”

“What're we doin’?” Snafu interjected instead. Eugene chuckled, vibrations felt in Snafu’s own chest.

“Um, I dunno, cuddling? It might make me a girl but...” he lifted his left foot up from the floor and tucked it under his thigh that wasn’t pressed decidedly alongside Snafu’s. The hand on Snafu’s knee moved to curl against Snafu’s stomach. He smiled into Snafu’s sweater, “Don’t get me wrong. It's not like I want anything to change with us but....I wanna keep...ya know, if that’s ok?”

Snafu nodded. The film was nearing its climax. Snafu eyed the string of Christmas lights laying abandoned behind their TV. A shiver ran through Snafu when Eugene pressed his mouth to his shoulder, giving off the slightest suggestion of heat through the thick fabric.

“What if I kissed you?” Snafu blurted out as a car slammed against a wall onscreen. It was one thing to get a little cozy with your roommate, as long as no one saw. You could still laugh it off and pretend like it was just those last couple of beers. Kissing was another thing entirely. At first, the question was met with a deafening silence filled by Alan Rickman and gunfire.

“I think I’d like that,” Eugene mumbled at last and titled his head to meet Snafu’s eyes.

Snafu curved his arm around Eugene's waist. He leaned into him and slotted their lips together, chasing Eugene’s sharp exhale of breath.

He attempted to slide Eugene closer with the arm around his waist, practically dragging him into his lap. Snafu’s other hand petted gracelessly at his hair as their kiss became wetter. He was nearly shaking with each huff of Eugene's breath on his face. Snafu moaned when Eugene’s clothed thighs bracketed his waist. Snafu leaned up into him, blindly sliding his hands to cup Eugene's ass.

At the first squeeze, Eugene broke their contact to roll his head back with a string of curses. Snafu pulled his hands off, only to have Eugene attempt to force Snafu to grab hold once more.

With renewed confidence, Snafu reattached their mouths and began to subtly thrust upwards into Eugene. After another minute, Eugene was nearly bouncing with the force of it, Snafu’s hands were glued to his waist just up under his shirt, dragging Eugene’s ass and crotch over the bulge in his jeans each time. Eugene whined and gasped into his mouth even as he attempted to hold back the noises.

Eugene grabbed a fistful of Snafu’s sweater and shoved his tongue into the other man’s mouth as a plea. They stopped kissing only long enough for Eugene to pull off the polyester knit.

Snafu’s hand reached between them to pull down Eugene’s sweats past the swell of his backside, freeing the outline of his erection. He palmed at Eugene through his well-worn boxers covered in animated reindeer, an insistently bobbing weight against his hand.

“Oh my god,” Eugene kissed him under his eye, slowing his motions. “Here, just, take off your shirt too.” Snafu swiftly complied with Eugene’s assistance and disposed of it somewhere to their right, blessedly missing the lamp. They similarly made quick work of freeing Snafu from his jeans.

Eugene’s arms immediately wrapped around his neck and pressed their bare torso’s flush against one another; cool, naked skin finally making contact with Snafu’s own.

Snafu insinuated his hand back between them as they kissed, now made much more difficult due to their sheer proximity. He fought back the elastic band and grasped at Eugene’s erection. Eugene moaned again and pressed impossibly close, desperately pinning Snafu’s hand between their bodies. Snafu watched his face as his hand bumped over the smooth head to grip the shaft and back up again. He made a loose fist inside the humid heat of Eugene’s boxers, slicking up the skin with Eugene’s precome, certain he'd died and gone to heaven. Snafu’s knuckles repeatedly brushed over Eugene’s bellybutton as he began to pump him faster.

Eugene bit into Snafu’s lower lip. In response, Snafu’s free hand came down hard on Eugene’s ass, resounding with a dull smack – to which Eugene gave his loudest moan thus far over the sounds of the DVD menu. Snafu shuddered underneath him, feeling delirious from the incredible friction on his own straining hard on and the view of Eugene above him.

Then Eugene was whimpering and coming in short bursts over Snafu’s belly and chest. Eugene only took a moment to catch his breath atop Snafu before clambering down to kneel between Snafu’s legs. He spared a glance at Snafu’s flushed face and proceeded to awkwardly wiggled Snafu’s jeans and briefs further down his hips.

With that he took Snafu into his hand and began to twist and squeeze him. He paused the rhythm of his hand to lower his head and tentatively press his lips to the rounded tip, smeared with fluid. It was embarrassingly too much, so that Snafu felt himself coming on Eugene’s exposed collarbone and shoulder.

They both stared at one another for a moment, Eugene on the ground and Snafu still seated on the couch. The heat came back on, rattling and wheezing overhead. Snafu tucked himself back inside his boxers and tried to ignore the unpleasant dampness on his stomach. His eyes followed Eugene, who used Snafu and the couch to stand up on unsteady legs.

“Do you wanna - ?” Eugene ran a hand through his hair and jerked his thumb towards the bathroom.

“Naw, you can go first,” Snafu waved in what he hoped was a casual gesture, slouching on the shifted couch cushion with his chest bare and pants undone. He’d never felt more unsure of himself. He needed a cigarette. Maybe he’d sneak another while Eugene was cleaning up.

“Alright, I’ll just be a sec,” Eugene gathered up his shirt, hesitating only a moment before leaving the room.

Once he was gone, Snafu wiped his hand through the mess on his chest and stomach. He’d followed the occasional guy back to their place (sometimes with the promise of drugs, sometimes not. Sometimes redheads, sometimes not). But in his handful of experiences, he’d never let the guy come on him.

He got up to retrieve his own sweater but couldn’t bring himself to put it back on. The longer he sat in silence without Eugene, the more room there was for doubt. His darker insecurities began to ask if he’d ever considered that maybe he was in there coming up with ways to let Snafu down easy. The voice only grew louder until Snafu finally got up and followed Eugene’s path to the bathroom.

Outside the door, he could hear the shower running noisily against the tub floor. When he tried the door, he found it unlocked. A dense cloud of steam and hot air hit him.

“Snafu, that you?” Eugene called over the rush of the water. Snafu stepped out of his jeans and underwear, kicking them into corner, in a pile with Eugene’s sweats. He pulled the shower curtain back to climb over the edge of the tub. “Jesus,” Eugene stepped back, blinking back from the streams of water running down his face. Thankfully, he made no move to cover up. “You can’t just do that,” he scolded, even as his voice trailed off with what Snafu dared to hope was desire.

“Like you never surprised nobody in the bathroom 'fore,” Snafu said, invading his space and drank in the sight of him. It was the first time he’d ever gotten a proper look at Eugene completely naked. His skin was even paler and his hair even darker under the pounding water.

“Actually, no. I haven’t.”

“Missin’ out Sledgehamma,” Snafu placed his hands on Eugene’s wet skin with confidence he didn't have. He mouthed at Eugene's neck through streams of water, desperately slid his hands up and down Eugene’s chest, his hips, his arms.

Snafu lined up their bodies flush against one another, shoulder to shoulder, hips to hips, cock to cock. Snafu felt as if he might expire from a sensory overload as Eugene kissed him, finally pressing and touching with the full expanse of his skin.

“So fucking good,” Eugene mumbled, eyelids heavy. “Goddammit, you're so fucking good,” he slurred against Snafu’s lips as Snafu backed his shoulders up against the slippery pink and white tiles. Snafu grabbed Eugene by his hair and muffled the words with his tongue.

They kissed until the water started to cool and their fingertips began to prune. By the time they got out of the shower, they were both hard again, although neither was in a rush to do anything as they toweled off and stepped around their discarded dirty clothes.

After they were dressed, Snafu paused in the unlit doorway of Eugene’s room. He found Eugene sitting up in bed in a sleep shirt, hair damp against his forehead. Snafu felt a swell of possessiveness, not for the first time that day. He stood there for longer than was generally considered polite, yet unlike other people, Eugene didn’t even flinch.

Snafu came inside to crawl across the bed and kiss Eugene into the pillows with all the force he had forgone earlier in favor of caution. It was surprisingly difficult to pull away from Eugene’s mouth once he’d started. It took Eugene to finally stop.

“Whoa,” Eugene stuttered. He looked up, eyes lit up with fingers still tangled in the Snafu's hair. “You know we’re gonna have to sleep at some point.” Snafu gave him an odd look.

“Hey,” Eugene said, staring up with wide brown eyes, “You know it’s not because I don’t want you right? Because I hope it's pretty obvious how much I do.” His cheeks managed to flush even in the dim light.

“I ‘suppose so,” Snafu sighed.

“You’re so full of it,” Eugene shoved Snafu, who landed like a brick on the other pillow.

After a stretch of companionable silence, Snafu turned towards him to murmur, “Guess I should be goin'."

Eugene's fingers traced the palm of Snafu's hand, “You don't have to unless you want to."

Snafu lifted the covers and climbed inside. Even from the odd angle at which he was positioned, Eugene’s smile was the widest he’d ever seen it. They eventually fell asleep with Snafu’s front pressed to Eugene’s back and the sound of the “Die Hard” menu muffled through the paper-thin wall.


End file.
